


Strained by Distance

by TriscuitsandSoup



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beta Stiles Stilinski, Breaking out of Eichen House, Breakout fic, Canon-Typical Violence, Eichen | Echo House, M/M, Pre-Slash, The Hale Family, The Hale Pack - Freeform, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Turning, eichen house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-09 10:16:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11667096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriscuitsandSoup/pseuds/TriscuitsandSoup
Summary: When Peter is trapped in Eichen Stiles has trouble coping and decides it's up to him to break Peter out, along with some help.





	Strained by Distance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lostwithoutmyanchor (mysourwolf)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysourwolf/gifts).



The air in Eichen House was just as stale and musty as Stiles remembered it. There was nothing of the lemon-scented cleaners other hospitals over utilized and in a strange way Stiles almost missed it. The cleansers and lemon scents did a wonderful job of masking the suffering taking place behind the walls and Eichen exuded suffering from every surface. 

The visitor’s entrance had at least taken care to prop up a few fake plants in the corner and hang a couple landscape paintings that almost felt friendly, the receptionists scowl reminded him it wasn’t. 

He waited twenty minutes to finally speak to an attendant and when he did he was turned away before he even got up from the chair. 

‘ _Peter is still recovering,_ ’ the nurses and attendants all said. ‘ _Peter is still dangerous. Peter isn’t allowed visitors._ ’ The phrases continued in that vein. A growing sense of unease welled within Stiles. He knew there was more to it. They were keeping Peter from him for a reason. He asked if he could call him, but they said ‘outside contact’ could be detrimental to his recovery. He tried to sneak in after hours but when he was caught he was thrown outside so hard his arm had a bruise for a week. 

With every day he couldn’t get to Peter his heart ached and the discomfort grew. He had to do something but Scott wouldn’t listen and Malia didn’t understand. She’d been in Eichen house but she hadn’t seen the dark underbelly the same way Stiles had. The Nogitsune’s feelings of that place stayed even after the spirit left his body. It's sordid past was etched clearly in his brain and the simple knowledge of its past doings was enough to make Stiles fear for any poor and unfortunate soul locked within its walls. 

“There’s something wrong,” Stiles told Scott as he paced around his room, biting on his knuckles. “I can tell. They’re hiding something I know it.” 

“Hiding what?” asked Scott. He played on his phone, only half listening to the conversation. 

“Just – something! There’s a reason they won’t let me see Peter, I know it.” 

“Why are you trying to see Peter?” He looked up from the device, his brows quirking in concern. 

“Because he’s all alone in there. That’s why he went feral the first time, isn’t it? He’s a wolf without a pack. He needs – he needs _someone._ ” 

“And that someone has to be you? Why not Derek, or Malia? We could probably get in contact with Cora.”

“I’ve already tried. They think Eichen is what’s best for him now.” 

“Maybe it is?” 

“Like it was best for me, or Lydia? Or Malia?” 

“That was different. They were helping Malia and Lydia was – she was a special case. Peter’s damaged, Stiles. He’s not like a normal person. He’s a sociopath.” 

“He’s still a werewolf and he still needs a pack.” 

“We already tried being his pack.” 

“So we’re just going to let him rot?” 

“If we have too,” Scott said. 

“No,” said Stiles. “I won’t let that happen. I’m not going to let him just go crazy in there.” 

“You don’t have a choice. They won’t let you see him and there’s no way in hell we’re breaking in.” 

“Then I’ll get to him without you,” said Stiles. 

“Stiles please, just be reasonable-“ 

“No,” Stiles shook his head. “No. I don’t want reason I want Peter.”

“It’s a death wish. He’d just as soon kill you.” 

“That’s not true. He-“ Stiles cut himself off before he could finish the sentence. Scott eyed him skeptically. 

“He what?” 

“He – He respects me.” 

“Peter Hale doesn’t respect anyone.” 

“But me.” 

Scott couldn’t be convinced otherwise. When he finally left the Stilinski home it was with a vague warning and a promise that Peter was probably doing just fine. It was all sugar-coating to make him forget but he couldn’t. Something was wrong with Peter, something no one wanted to tell him about. If no one would tell him then he would figure it out for himself. Even if it meant breaking into Eichen house by himself, but before he resorted to that there was one last person he could go to for help. 

The following night he drove to Mexico, stopping only once for gas. Border Patrol stopped him immediately. It didn’t help that he had a giant clunking jeep with dents in the side only his wallet on him. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as they searched the car for drugs. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin was translucent and all-in-all he didn’t blame them for thinking he was suspicious. 

The officers found nothing and reluctantly released him. 

His phone lit with texts and calls but he never took his eyes off the road. He just kept driving through the dry air and deserted streets. Even when his stomach growled and begged him to stop he kept going. He kept going until finally the little village to the south came into view. Through the darkness he saw several pairs of glowing eyes reflect his headlights beam. They were far too tall to be deer. 

Cora sat on the steps with he hands in her lap and her hair brushed to one side. Her maroon-painted lips were set in a deep frown. She stood as he got closer. The other werewolves hovering around outside the house flashed golden yellow iris’s. 

“I didn’t understand your text,” said Cora as Stiles exited the jeep. He tucked his keys into his pocket and dug his hands into his pocket. 

“I – I need Peter,” said Stiles. 

“I know I got that part,” said Cora. “Why? Why do you need Peter? Is something wrong?” 

“Of course something’s wrong!” When he raised his voice the wolves on the steps snarled low. They surrounded him on all sides and he realized he’d driven straight into a literal wolf’s den. The one with red eyes stood with his arms crossed behind Cora. He was tall and muscular with sun-soaked skin and a patch of black stubble on his chin that reminded him of Derek. 

“It’s okay,” said Cora. She looked to her packmates. “It’s okay. Stiles is okay. He’s a friend.” They ceased their rumblings but their eyes pinned him like the predators they were. 

“Is Derek here?” asked Stiles. 

“No,” said Cora. “He’s out with the rest of the pack.”

“Good,” said Stiles. “Listen. We need to get Peter out of Eichen House.” 

“Why?” 

“Because he doesn’t belong there. He’s – Peter’s screwed up, okay? We all know that, no one’s fucking denying it, but c’mon. The man doesn’t deserve to be locked up. Hell, that’s what drove him so mad in the first place. He’s all alone in there. He’s got no pack. It’s not right. He should – He should –“ 

“Son,” the alpha behind Cora cleared his throat. “I knew Peter Hale growing up. That man was already twisted from the moment he came out of the womb.” 

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, maybe he was. But does that mean he should sit and rot in a cell?” He turned to Cora. “He loved you. He loved Derek. You have to know that.” 

“He loved us,” Cora agreed, “but he still killed Laura.” 

“He was _feral_. It wasn’t his decision. You know what it’s like to be feral, remember? You and Boyd tried to murder two little kids.”

Cora swallowed. Her eyes dropped a shade darker. “That – I did. I’m not proud of it, but Stiles it’s not the same. I don’t know that uncle Peter can be fixed.” 

“He doesn’t need to be fixed. The only person he tried to hurt was Kate Argent and you know she deserved it.” 

“He arranged the dead pool.” 

“When he was stark mad and locked into his own comatose body. It only took three months to make you a murderer, Peter was stuck like that for _six years._ He doesn’t want to hurt anyone anymore. He doesn’t deserve to slowly lose his mind until he dies.”

Cora looked away from him. The cold desert wind played with her hair as she looked up at the moon. It reflected a perfect silver circle in her dark brown eyes. 

“Okay,” Cora said when she looked back. “I’ll help you.” 

“Thank you,” Stiles breathed. His shoulders relaxed. “Thank you so much.”

“Are you sure about this?” asked the Alpha. “Peter’s not exactly the forgiving type and your lot did send him there in the first place.” 

“Peter’s vengeful, sure,” said Stiles, “but he also knows when to pick a fight. He won’t risk his second chance at freedom.” 

“So, what do you need from me?” she asked. 

“A favor,” Stiles smiled weakly. He looked not to Cora but to the alpha behind her. “It’s not an easy one to ask.”

The alpha’s frown deepened. 

“You want the bite.” 

Cora’s brow furrowed. “No. You could die.” 

“I know,” said Stiles, “but I won’t.” 

“And how do you know that?” she asked. 

“Because Peter offered it to me. He wouldn’t have if he thought it would kill me.” 

“Peter’s made a lot of promises he didn’t intend to keep,” said the alpha. 

“But he didn’t make me a promise. He asked, he encouraged, he never promised. You seem to think I’m under the impression that Peter’s some sort of good person. He’s not. He’s selfish. He’s an asshole. He’s manipulative, but he does _care_.”

The alpha laughed. “You think all those things but you still want him?” 

“I’m selfish too,” said Stiles. 

“And how do we know that selfish you and selfish Peter won’t cause problems for us?” 

“Because you’d have done me a favor,” said Stiles, “and you took care of Cora.” 

The alpha took a few seconds to consider this. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll think about giving you the bite.” 

“I don’t have time for that,” said Stiles. “Every day Peter gets more and more feral.” 

“It’s not something you just do,” said Cora. This time it was her turn to narrow her eyes “The bite is important. It’s creating a new life in someone.” 

“I know that but the full moon’s almost over and if we want this to go smoothly we should do it now. If it happens tonight I’ll have twenty-eight days before the next one. By then we’ll have Peter back and you won’t have to worry about a newly made wolf wreaking havoc through the streets.” 

The alpha eyed him long and hard. “You’re sure this is what you want?” 

“I’m sure.” 

“You can’t take it back,” said Cora. 

“I know.” 

“Hold him still,” said the alpha to two betas on either side of Stiles. In less than a second his biceps were held in their vice-like grips. He could feel the bruises forming already where their claws threatened to break through his skin. Their hot breath brushed along his ears. 

“Is this really necessary?” Stiles asked in one breath. He tugged experimentally but he was cemented in place where they held him. His attempts were met with growls and bared fangs. 

“You said you wouldn’t regret this,” said the alpha. 

“I won’t,” said Stiles. He stopped his movements and locked eyes with the alpha. As he descended the steps Cora’s expression changed from determined to concerned. Her eyes traveled to his exposed throat. 

“Whatever happens,” said the alpha, “Peter is your responsibility now.” 

“And I’m his.” 

With no warning the alpha lunged forward and sank his teeth into Stiles’s throat. His clawed hands dug into his arms. 

Stiles gasped out in pain as the skin was broken. He wanted to cry but he bit his tongue and clenched his eyes shut. He leaned into the bite as Ramirez snarled against his skin. 

As the violent and bloody act came to its conclusion Stiles felt within him something roar. It was too vicious to be imagined and too fierce to be contained. His eyes burned, his mouth hurt, and the wound on his neck throbbed with a stabbing pain that made his every nerve writhe with a mixture of agony and glee he couldn’t quite place. The beast inside clawed at his stomach until he thought he would wretch but nothing came out, only filled his mouth with the taste of copper and tar. 

He didn’t notice the wolf’s released him until his cheek hit dirt. The sting of pain was lost underneath the gnawing in his stomach like a great beast threatening to break free. He clenched his eyes shut and when he opened them again the world around him was blurred and dark. He could just barely see Cora coming towards him. She kneeled by his side and took his head gently in her clawed hands. She mumbled something above him as she thumbed his cheek. 

Then everything faded away.

As he slumbered somewhere between unconscious and asleep something lurked in the depths of his mind. It went from a passing tickle in his brain and expanded slowly, very slowly, until the tickle became an itch and the itch turned into a headache he couldn’t ignore. It pressed against and crowded his mind with foreign thoughts and feelings. It had yellow eyes, gray fur, and a strong jaw of snapping teeth. It was a quiet being, but not a thoughtless one. Proud but unimposing. 

Stiles recognized the beast as himself. 

With the realization the mounting fever that coursed over his body broke. The breathing that had become so painful began to settle. He could breathe again and at last, he could open his eyes. 

Cora looked down at him. Her hair was tied up in a messy ponytail with several strands hanging over her face. In her hand she held a wet washcloth which she wiped over Stiles’ brow. It felt good against his sweat-soaked skin.

“You survived,” she said as she let out a breath. She pulled the washcloth away and dropped it in a bucket beside her. 

“Yeah,” he felt his newly formed fangs brush against his bottom lip when he spoke. His throat felt like a scratching post. “I guess I did.” 

The wolf inside him let out a low, rumbling noise that echoed through his vocal cords. It stung as it escaped him but his ears reveled in the sound. His mind turned to Peter and the wolf inside whined, though Stiles managed to keep that noise within. 

“I thought being a wolf was supposed to make me strong?” he croaked out. “I feel like shit.” 

“Every single cell in your body was just changed. You should feel like shit. Alpha Ramirez wasn’t even sure you’d survive the first fifteen minutes with the way you were thrashing.” 

Stiles grunted. “When does the healing kick in?” 

Cora smiled. “Give it a few hours.” 

“So you survived?” 

Stiles looked past Cora to see alpha Ramirez standing in the doorway. His eyes flashed red. Stiles felt his own melt to gold. The wolf inside him perked up at the crimson pupils, but it was unimpressed and retreated back to the recesses of Stiles’ mind. 

“Everyone could stop acting so surprised by it.”

Ramirez moved closer. 

The wolf in Stiles bristled. 

“Not surprised. Concerned.” 

“Why?”

He laid a hand on Cora’s shoulder. 

Stiles fought back a mounting growl. 

“You can’t think I would hurt her.” 

“Not you,” said Ramirez. “Peter.” 

“She’s his niece.” 

“And we know how he treated his other one.” 

“Do we really have to go through this again?” 

“Stiles is right,” said Cora. “Peter was feral then.” 

“He’s feral now.” 

“Which is why it’s so important we get him out of there,” Stiles said. His wolf paced uneasily in the back of his brain. It didn’t like the other alpha’s scent muddling Cora’s. “We’re getting Peter back.”

“Not now you aren’t.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Why would you agree to give me the bite if you were just planning on holding me prisoner here?” the wolf in the back of his brain came to the forefront. His eyes burned with anger. He could feel his tongue sharpen and his nails growing longer. 

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Ramirez said. “You were just turned. There’s no way you should be running off with another beta until you’ve had time to settle.” 

“I don’t need to settle, I need-“ Stiles cut off as his scratchy throat gave out. What had been a dull pain burst into an electric shock of discomfort that ricocheted throughout his body. He cringed and grabbed his head with one hand. The points of his claws dug into his scalp. 

“You see? You can’t even keep your wolf down.” 

Stiles growled. He clenched his eyes shut and took several long, deep breaths. He only opened his eyes when he felt the sharp points of his claws turn back into dull nails cut to his fingertips.

“I’m fine. I just want Peter.” 

“He’s going to kill you,” said Ramirez. His brow twitched. “Both of you.” 

“He won’t,” said Stiles. “He never – he cares for us.”

“I’ll have it written on your graves,” said Ramirez. “This is a stupid plan.” 

The two glared at each other. Stiles’ wolf snarled in his face. The rumblings threatened his throat. He could see the tight clenching of Ramirez’s jawline and the way his hands clenched until his knuckles were white. 

Ramirez turned on his heel and walked out. The door slammed shut behind him. 

Stiles slumped back against the bed. “What is his problem? He agreed to bite me.” 

Cora sighed and scratched her nape. 

“He thought you would die. He honestly thought you would die.” 

“That’s so fucking comforting.” 

“Stiles, Peter _is_ dangerous. He’s just scared for me.” 

“Stay here if you want.” 

Cora pinned him with her eyes. “No.” 

“Good.” 

They waited only a few more hours for Stiles’ healing factor to kick in. Once it had he felt as good as new. Cora climbed into the passenger seat of the jeep and waved her surrogate pack goodbye. A bundle of her things was packed into the backseat of the jeep, enough clothes for a week or so and some old family heirlooms. Stiles was secretly elated she chose to bring them along, he knew Peter would adore them. 

“You still haven’t told me what you need from me,” said Cora as they drove through the nearly deserted streets with the hot, arid wind whipping around them. She had to raise her voice for it to reach Stiles’ ears. 

“Peter told me that wolves hunt in packs because they need more than one to take down their prey,” Stiles said. 

“How come you’re suddenly so keen to Peter’s advice?” 

“Because it’ll help us get him out. Even as a werewolf I can’t get into Eichen by myself, that place is already protected against supernaturals as it is. They probably have wolf’s bane in the floorboards.” 

“Then neither of us can get in.” 

“No, because to get Peter there they had to move him in somehow, right? It can’t just be wall to ceiling in supernatural defenses.”

“He’s in the maximum-security section, it could be wall to ceiling.” 

“Okay, well, if that’s the case then we’re fucked but I’m an optimist so can you please work with me here?” 

Cora waited for him to continue. 

“Okay, so I’m thinking we might be able to sneak in if we use the underground tunnels. They’re massive and the Nogitsune left a pretty big map of them in my brain. I think- I think most of the guards are human. If not, well, I’m a newly turned wolf so I should be able to take them down, right?”

“And you want me to take them down if you can’t?” Cora asked. 

“No,” said Stiles with a sly smirk. “I want you to drive the get-away car when I can.” 

“You’re serious?” Cora furrowed her brow. “There’s no way I’m driving this busted to hell jeep. It’ll stall after ten minutes and _your father_ will catch us.” 

“Not the jeep. We need something that’ll work reliably. Any chance you know how to hot wire a car?” 

“I know where we can get a Camaro.”

Stiles smirked. “Perfect.”

⊷⧟⊶

They found Derek’s car inside a storage unit on the upper side of Beacon Hills.

Cora pulled the keys from under the seat and jammed them in the ignition. It came to life in an instant, the head lights illuminating the dark shadows that surrounded the storage facility. Sitting in the passenger seat reminded Stiles of years ago when he was scared to look Derek in the eyes for too long, and now he was plotting alongside his sister to spring his ‘evil uncle’ from Eichen House.

“Derek gonna be mad when he finds out we took it?” Stiles asked as he slumped down in the seat. Even in the darkness, he could see every crack and crevice in the road.

“Yeah,” said Cora, “he’ll get over it. We need to get Peter.” 

At Peter’s name, the wolf in Stiles’ mind came to life. He could see his own eyes flaring yellow in his reflection on the glass. His fingers itched when his claws threatened to break free.

“We’ll have him back soon,” Stiles said, more to his wolf than to Cora. 

The wolf went unsatiated. It's jaw clenched as it ground its impatient teeth. He wondered if that was normal, for his wolf to be so much more aggressive than his rational thinking self. He would have to ask Peter when they finally got him back.

“Then what? Alpha Ramirez won’t want him in his pack. We don’t have an alpha.” 

“Then we make one.” 

“How?” 

“I know one no one would miss.” 

“Deucalion? You want him to be our alpha?” 

“No. I just don’t think he’s changed and I don’t think anyone will go looking for him when he disappears.”

“You’re going to get us all killed, Stilinski.” 

“Or put things back where they belong.” 

“One way or the other.” 

“At least we’re doing it together?” 

Cora smirked. “Mom would be proud.”

⊷⧟⊶

As it turned out Eichen wasn’t that hard to break into. Navigating it, on the other hand, was much more difficult.

Stiles listened with inhuman ears to the breathing, heartbeats, footsteps, every little sound amplified. He heard electronic locks clicking and fingernails tapping. The sounds assaulted his ears. Quiet as they were they were so enveloping that it was hard for him to think. He gritted his teeth which had grown long and sharp in his half shift. 

His nostrils flared with scents he knew and scents he didn’t. They rushed to him in waves both the ones closest to him like the dirt on his clothes from crawling through the tunnels underneath Eichen, to the ones of the patients and their overmedicated, chemical scents.

He stood with his back pressed to the wall just listening and scenting until something familiar tickled in his nose. 

_Peter,_ he thought.

The scent was musky and hidden beneath a layer of ash and lavender laundry detergent but it was Peter’s. His wolf’s ears flicked back. 

He came out from behind the wall and looked down the row of cells. Peter’s scent was down the farthest one. He moved at a painfully slow pace so as to not alert the guards to his presence. His wolf paced and let out a few anxious whines within him. They remained caught in his throat. 

As he walked through the halls he could feel the pain and suffering of the captives within its walls. As a human he’d only the eerie creeping sensation of something dark curled up within the underbelly of Eichen, but as a wolf he could see it unraveling in front of him. The scent of blood though dried and faded clung to the walls. The salt of tears flowed freely from underneath the doors. The dim and flickering lights were reminiscent of the hope that flared and died when he passed room after room. 

As he came to Peter’s cellblock he was startled by the sound of footsteps, much closer and louder than any others. He stuck to the wall and peered around the corner. 

A tall man in blue scrubs stood in the corridor holding a keycard. His scent caused Stiles to recoil and bare his fangs in distaste. 

The man waved his keycard in front of the farthest cell. The door unlocked with a soft click. 

“Time for medicine, Peter,” he said in an all-too-cheerful voice. 

Stiles’ wolf pricked up its ears at Peter’s name. He quickly moved from behind the wall to another, closer to the cell. 

A soft growl came from inside the cell as the man stepped inside. 

“Oh now don’t be like that,” Stiles heard him chuckle and that was all he needed to hear. 

He surged forward to the cell just in time to see the man brandishing a needle.

Stiles grabbed the wrist holding the needle and yanked it back. 

The man looked back at him with wide eyes. 

“Who are-“ he didn’t get to finish his sentence as Stiles grabbed onto his nape and slammed his head into the doorframe. As his body crumpled to the floor Peter came into view. He sat on a rough looking cot with his eyes wide and a book in his lap. His hair was unkempt and he wore a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. Stiles remembered how scratchy it felt from his own days in Eichen. Carved into the center of his cell was a spiral extending from the center of the floor outwards until it touched the sides of all four walls. 

Peter’s nostrils flared as he looked at Stiles. His fingers dug into the back of his book. 

The wolf in Stiles’ heart reared up and howled in silent glee. 

“Hey,” Stiles breathed. He stepped over the body on the ground. 

“What are you doing here?” Peter asked. He abandoned the book and slid off the cot. 

“Getting you out,” Stiles said. 

“How did you get here?” 

Stiles let his eyes go vibrant.

Peter’s own turned icy blue in recognition. 

“Who?” Peter asked. 

“No time,” Stiles held out his hand. “Come with me.” 

Without a word Peter took Stiles’ hand and they were off, racing down the hallways back to the ventilation system Stiles snuck in through. They led deep into the tunnels that had once been used for smuggling operations. There was no time for sneaking. Soon enough someone would find Peter’s cell door open with only a body inside. 

“No offense, but you smell bad,” said Stiles as they ran through the halls hand-in-hand. The lavender detergent could only do so much to disguise the acidic scent wafting off him. It burned Stiles’ nose. 

“It’s the drugs,” said Peter. “Does it smell like a forest fire and chemical spill all at once?”

“Yeah.” 

“That’s mountain ash. Hopefully this is the last time either of us will ever smell it.” 

“They poisoned you?” 

“Can’t have inmates capable of bending the bars off their cells.” Peter’s hand squeezed Stiles’ tight. He thumbed over the back of Stiles’ white knuckles. 

Stiles didn’t respond as they came to a maintenance door at the end of the halls. He pushed it open and raced down the metal staircase within. Their footsteps were loud and reverberating as they pounded their way down. The tunnels were beyond a metal grate that Stiles had to bend to force open. 

“It’s nice to see you capable,” said Peter. 

“Gee thanks,” said Stiles. “It’s nice to see you accepting help.”

“I can when I need too.” 

As soon as the grate was wrenched from its place Stiles took Peter’s hand again. Their fingers twined together. 

The tunnels echoed their footsteps and washed the scent of Eichen from their noses in favor of salt and stagnant water. 

“How much further?” asked Peter. 

“Not far,” said Stiles. It felt strange to run for so long without needing to stop for breath. “There’s another vent a little ways down that leads to the surface.” 

The vent was, unfortunately, smaller than Stiles anticipated. It was a circular concrete structure barely wider than Peter’s shoulders. The inside was shrouded in darkness, though with his wolf eyes Stiles thought he could almost see the exit. 

“Oh you have got to be kidding me,” said Peter. “We’ll get stuck.”

“You have a better solution?” 

“If I die in there I’ll haunt you.” 

“If you die in there I’ll be stuck behind you. We’ll be dead together.” 

Peter looked at Stiles with stern eyes. “Then I will do everything in my power to make sure your afterlife is an unpleasant one.” 

“Yeah that’s a great way to thank someone for rescuing you.” Stiles rolled his eyes and crawled into the hole.

“You haven’t rescued me yet,” said Peter. A few seconds later and he heard the sound of Peter stepping inside after him. 

Inside the tunnel the sounds of breathing and heartbeats echoed and reverberated around them. His shoulders scraped along the side of the wall the closer they got to the exit but at last they emerged from the darkness to find themselves several yards away from Eichen, shrouded by trees and brush. 

Stiles clambered out onto the dirt. He let out a sigh of relief and looked up at the moon, silently thanking whatever god allowed them to escape so easily. 

“Move!” Peter said. 

Stiles was shoved to the side. “Hey!” 

Peter climbed out and stood up. He grimaced down at his dirt-coated knees. He wiped his hands distastefully on his shirt. “Well that was … an experience.” 

“And now you’re free,” said Stiles.

As if on cue a loud alarm bell sounded from Eichen. 

Stiles breath hitched. 

“C’mon,” Peter grabbed his arm and hauled him up onto his feet. “Where-?”

“Cora has Derek’s car on the main road.” 

“The main road?” 

“Do you want to run half a mile to a side one? Let’s go!”

“Wait,” said Peter. 

“For what?” 

Without warning Peter crowded himself into Stiles’ space. He took his head in his hands and tilted up his chin. Stiles eyes melted to gold under his touch. 

“Who is your alpha?” Peter asked. There was an accusation in his tone that made Stiles’ wolf bristle. 

“I’m hoping you’ll be,” said Stiles. “Once we find one no one will miss.” 

“That is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever said,” said Peter as he released him. 

They ran together through the trees with the wind whistling behind them and the alarms from Eichen loud in their ears. The scent of dogs and something bitter filled his nose until Cora’s headlights appeared and illuminated the road.

Peter yanked open the door and jumped inside. Stiles slid in after him. Before the door was even fully shut the engine came to life and shot down the streets so fast the world was a blur around them. 

“Cora,” Peter breathed. 

“Hey,” said Cora, looking back at him. She smiled. “What do you want to do now?” 

“Now we get Derek,” said Stiles. “Then we be a pack again.” 

Cora smiled. 

Peter growled his approval. 

As the old brick building grew further in the distance behind them Stiles knew their pack would soon be complete and his bond to Peter, through strained by distance, was stronger than ever.


End file.
